


To Forge a Better Future

by estelraca



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Healing, Multi, survival AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: When Valjean leaves the barricades, he carries two barely-breathing bodies with him.  As Cosette helps Éponine and Marius to heal, she begins to imagine a different future for the three of them than the one she had expected.
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	To Forge a Better Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



> This is musical-canon but borrowing heavily from Brick canon for topics not touched on in the show, such as the rest of the Amis and Gavroche's parentage. I hope that you enjoy!

_To Forge a Better Future_

She wasn't supposed to live.

It's Éponine's first, bitter thought as pain and a strange silence drags her back to consciousness. She protected Marius. She did what needed to be done for him. He _acknowledged_ her, and now she is supposed to be _done_ with all this. She isn't supposed to hurt anymore, not after he covered the hole in her chest with his hand.

She's lying on someone's jacket. Her chest is bandaged, and it hurts too much for her to be dead. Every breath she takes causes something to grate within her, and she wishes she hadn't woken. She wishes the last thing she had seen was Marius, looking down at her with shock and surprise and, perhaps, fondness.

Marius wishing she wouldn't die, and perhaps it's foolish to hope his wishing came to naught. Perhaps if she can get up...

It's one of the hardest things she's done in her life, but she's used to hard things. Her father was never a kind man, and poverty has turned him into a vicious one. Her body is used to surviving on the minimal that it can, used to doing the impossible because if she doesn't the alternative is far worse.

She staggers through blood and corpses, no one walking among the wounded. It tells her what she needs to know about how the barricade battle went, and her vision tunnels out as she imagines finding _him_ among the dead. If _she_ is alive, then Marius must—

Someone else is alive, too. She spies the figure moving swift and silent, someone upon his back, and freezes with the speed of long instinct. Better not to draw a predator's attention when you can't defend yourself, after all. And Éponine has never been able to defend herself well enough.

She wasn't fast enough, though. Or perhaps she had already been spotted, the hulking man's vision not blurred by pain and blood loss like hers is. Whatever the reason, he moves out of the shadows to stand in front of her, and draped over his back—

"Marius." She whispers the name, not knowing whether this person carrying Marius is friend or foe, savior or monster. Her father would happily rob these corpses, after all—just as he would happily rob the corpses of the soldiers, if the barricades had succeeded.

"You." The man's voice is an answering whisper. "You're the girl who saved Marius' life, yes?"

Éponine doesn't know what answer will lead to life, what answer to death, and she doesn't know which she craves right now anyway. So she looks the man in the eye—the man who has lifted Marius as though he weighs nothing—and answers him truthfully. "Yes. I saved him. I wanted to die before him, you see, if death was to be the harvest today."

Her words are rough, broken, her throat too dry to give the speech justice.

The eyes of the man carrying Marius soften, and he reaches out a hand to her. "No children should have died today. No more will, if I am able to prevent it."

She doesn't realize what he intends until his arm is around her waist, lifting her to lie atop his other shoulder.

She thinks she should protest, but by the time she draws breath to she is already being lifted, and then pain blacks out the world again.

She doesn't know if she will wake again or not, but at least this way she will get to die beside Marius, as she already thought she had once.

XXX

She wakes, again.

She hurts less this time. She doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

The air smells better, here. Of flowers and growing things, rather than gunsmoke and guts. How did she get here from the barricades? Is this some kind of heaven? Could that be real, after all she has seen in her lifetime?

Would she ever be allowed inside, if it were real?

She shifts, and her chest cries out agony to her, dispelling thoughts of being dead.

"Oh! You're awake." A woman's voice, melodic and young, says the words.

Éponine forces herself to stillness, needing to gather more information before she can act. Opening her eyes, she blinks until the gritty feeling gives way to something more normal and she is able to make out shapes.

There is a woman smiling at her. No, not just _a_ woman—Marius' woman. Marius' high-class lady, the one he has been swooning over, the one he loves because she is everything Éponine is not.

" _Are_ you awake?" The woman seems less certain, reaching out to press the back of her hand to Éponine's forehead. "It's all right, either way. You're safe here. We're taking care of you."

Éponine can't help a little snort of laughter, which hurts far more than she expected it to, turning into a gasp of pain.

"You _are_ awake!" The woman smiles triumphantly, as though Éponine's consciousness were her personal victory. "Oh, I'm so glad. It's been a terrible three days, waiting to see whether you would make it or not."

Éponine's eyes go wide. _Three days?_ She's been unconscious for three days? Glancing down at herself, she confirms that she's not in her clothes. She's under a clean sheet, on a well-stuffed mattress, and her own worn, threadbare clothes have been replaced by a nice dressing gown.

"If you want to sit up more, I can help you." The woman reaches out her hands in clear offer.

"Yes." The word is a croak, and Éponine grimaces, her throat constricting painfully.

"Here." A glass of water is held to Éponine's lips, and she drinks greedily.

Or tries to, anyway. As soon as she's had a few sips Marius' woman pulls the glass away. "Not too much, now. The doctors said that it's dangerous to drink too much in your state."

Éponine feels both her eyebrows arch up. Someone has paid for a _doctor_? For _her_?

How did she _get_ here?

Allowing the woman to help her sit up, Éponine bites her lip to keep any cries of pain from slipping out. The last thing she remembers is being shot at the barricade.

Except... no. There was something after that. Someone. A man, carrying Marius—

Éponine's eyes widen as she places the man, finally. It's the one her father had accosted, the charitable man he intended to rob but then realized wasn't who he'd said he was. The man with the daughter, the daughter who must be—

Éponine stares at Cosette, managing to pick out traces of the child she had been now that she has good lighting and the time to stare.

"What?" Cosette smiles, and there's a spark of _life_ there that Éponine doesn't remember from when they were young. From when her mother and father treated Cosette as their father would eventually treat all of them—as an asset, a pawn, a toy to be worn down until it isn't of any use any more, and then discarded.

"I..." Éponine looks away, wondering how the world could be so cruel. How could this be the woman that Marius loved? How could the stranger who took her away—the stranger her father had cackled _must_ have had ill intentions for Cosette—have provided her with such a good life?

Assuming it _is_ a good life. Éponine supposes looks can be deceiving, but Cosette appears to be healthy, and the house that Marius visited her at was something Éponine could only ever dream of—

"You're Éponine." Cosette's fingers are warm against Éponine's cheek, forcing her head around with gentle, inexorable force so that they're eye-to-eye again. "Marius' friend. But also..." Cosette draws in a ragged, shaking breath. "You're _Éponine_. From the inn."

Cosette's fingers are abruptly gone from Éponine's chin, twined together in her lap as she stares at Éponine with some strange combination of horror and shock and pity.

"I'm Éponine." Éponine keeps her head high, refusing to look away from Cosette. "I went to the barricades, and I saved Marius' life."

"Then I thank you." Cosette's words are a soft whisper, her eyes still wide with something Éponine is beginning to think is fear.

It surprises her to find she doesn't want to see that fear in Cosette's eyes. Perhaps because she knows it intimately, now. Perhaps because she has had her fill and more of fear on the streets, has learned how to hide it, to bury it, to ignore it, and hates having instilled it in someone just with the recognition of who she is.

"Where..." Éponine runs her tongue over dry lips, and gestures towards the water in the glass, appalled at how weak she feels.

Cosette hesitates for a moment, and then helps Éponine once more to drink.

"Thank you." Éponine finds herself falling back into old habits of politeness, phrases she had thought lost to time rising easily to her lips. Perhaps her mother's teachings hadn't been in vain after all. "Where are we?"

Cosette swallows. "We're at Monsieur Marius' house. Well, his grandfather's house. He's been convalescing since the barricades fell, as have you."

"Why..." Éponine finds herself accepting the words, not having any reason to doubt them.

"Because you saved Marius." Cosette's lips tremble as she smiles. "That's what was said, at least. In his lucid moments apparently Marius agrees. And his grandfather will do whatever he can for Marius, at this point. He's just thrilled that Marius survived. Or... will most likely survive."

Éponine lets out a slow, shaky breath. "Mairus will live, then. And... go to England with you? Why haven't _you_ gone to England?"

"I won't leave him." Cosette's jaw firms, her eyes flashing again with that fire that Éponine doesn't remember from when they were little.

Or... perhaps she does, a bit. When Cosette first came to them, before Éponine's mother decided that Cosette wasn't worth even a quarter of what her own daughters were... is it a true memory, Cosette standing with one hand on her hip, one pointing up in the air, laughter and fire in her eyes? Or is it just something that Éponine's mind is weaving, a shadow to make more sense of this burning fire before her?

Cosette still sits like a proper lady, but her fingers are tight where they wrap together. "I am staying here, with Marius. Well..." Her cheeks flush, and her eyes narrow in something that is more anger than frustration. "I am staying in Paris, at least. And I am staying here until I get to see that Marius is whole for myself, and then he and I can decide together where we wish to go from here."

"If you're here for Marius..." Éponine winces as a flare of pain spreads up her ribs. "Why are you _here_ with me?"

"Because they won't let me into Marius' room." Cosette's lips set in a thin, firm line that tells Éponine this is the source of the anger. "They say that it could upset his recovery, having a woman in the room."

" _They_ being the same doctors who said not to give me water?" Éponine gestures towards the glass, and is relieved when Cosette once more lifts it to her lips.

"Yes..." Cosette draws out the word, a tiny smile flitting at the corners of her mouth. "I suppose it does cast most of their suggestions into doubt, doesn't it?"

"Just a bit." Éponine gasps as the pillows shift under her and she sags back towards the mattress.

"On the other hand..." Cosette's hands are gentle as she helps Éponine to lie back down. "They _have_ kept you and Marius alive, when I would not have believed it possible from the way you looked to start."

"A cracked chamber pot can still hold some piss." Éponine touches her chest, where she can feel the bandages binding tight, constricting her breathing but also helping to keep the pain to a dull roar. "We looked that bad?"

"You looked..." Cosette draws a shaking breath. "I am just glad to see you awake and aware again, and hope to see Marius the same soon."

"Glad because I saved Marius' life?" Éponine feels her eyelids drifting closed, feeling too heavy for her to fight against. And why _should_ she fight, now? If some rich man wants to keep her alive on a lark... well, she's been in far worse situations before.

"Glad because everyone deserves a chance to live." Cosette's fingers feel like brands of fire against Éponine's. " _Everyone_ , Éponine. We all deserve a chance to be happy, and I will strive for us all to find that, in whatever ways I can."

Éponine tries not to think of the young men she saw dead or dying at the barricades, tries not to think of how the streets ran red with blood.

Cosette's words are a good sentiment, even if it's an impossible one, and Éponine would like to carry it down into the dark with her for a little while.

XXX

Cosette brings a book with her the next day, when she returns to her vigil at Éponine's bedside.

She doesn't know if Éponine reads, or if she'll find the novel interesting or scandalizing or incredibly boring. Cosette knows that opinions on novels are sharply divided, but they're one of the few things her father doesn't seem to fear, and she has found solace in them over the years.

It will give them something to talk about, too, something besides Marius and the looming darkness that is their shared past.

Éponine is awake, propped up on pillows and staring hungrily towards the open window that allows in a bit of sunlight and the faintest breeze. She smiles when she sees Cosette, though the smile falters almost immediately, becoming an unreadable mask as Éponine watches her.

"Hello." Cosette pulls a chair over to Éponine's bedside, as she has done every day since her father told her Marius had been wounded at the barricades. If someone were to press her on why, she would say that it's because everyone deserves a friendly face, say that she wants to be _useful_ and that if they will not let her be useful with Marius then she will be useful here.

None of those reasons are even untrue. There is just _also_ the truth that she is fascinated by Éponine. Even before she realized who Éponine is, there was something... fierce about her. Something strong, something that had brought her to the barricades along with Marius and the other failed revolutionaries, and also brought her through the illness that followed.

Plus Cosette is simply _lonely_. Her father has been a ferocious guard, and she loves him for all that he has given her, but companionship has not been a large part of their lives.

"Hello." Éponine's drawn-out word pulls Cosette's thoughts back to the present.

"I brought a book." Cosette holds the book out, feeling awkward. "If you were interested, I thought perhaps I could read some?"

Éponine reaches out, touching the cover almost reverently. "If you'd like. Though I can read, you know. Quite well."

There's obvious pride in Éponine's voice, and with a twinge Cosette recognizes it—recognizes the need to prove that one isn't just what society would cast one as. "If you'd prefer to read quietly, I can also just leave it with you."

Éponine considers before pulling her hand back and shaking her head. "No, I won't ask that of you. I know these can be costly."

"Not so much." Cosette strokes the cover of the little book. "My father isn't one for wasting money, but he allows me small indulgences like this. Though I suppose how much one thinks a thing costs depends on how much one has to begin with."

"True enough." Éponine's eyes never stray from Cosette, as though the other woman could catalog every bit of her, find some secret hiding in the shape of Cosette's nose or the slant of her chin. "My mother liked reading, before. When we occasionally had a bit to spare."

Cosette freezes, trying not to remember sharp words, fierce eyes appearing over the top of a page. It has been so long since she allowed herself to dwell on the memories—she has spent so much time elsewhere—that some of them had begun to fade. "I... I had forgotten."

"She might have, too." Éponine looks away, finally, her throat moving in a dry swallow. "I'm sorry. About all that was done to you. About... about my part in it. I could say I didn't realize, that I was just a child, too, but... but I still should have known. Long before anything began happening to me, I should have known."

Cosette reaches out slowly to touch the fingers of Éponine's hand—calloused, cracked skin that has gripped the fabric of the sheet covering her with all the strength Éponine likely has. "We were both children. And it seems neither of us was allowed to be innocent for long."

"No." Éponine barks out a soft laugh, though it turns to a wince and grimace of pain swiftly. Her eyes turn back to Cosette. "The man who took you away... is that who you call father?"

Now it is Cosette's turn to swallow, though she doesn't look away. "Yes. He has been more a father to me than any other person in the world, and though I don't think we share blood, we share history."

"Has he been... kind to you?" Éponine's eyes are searching her face still.

"He has been every ounce the best father and gentleman a girl could ask for." Cosette hopes that answers any concerns or doubts Éponine might have about him.

Instead it prompts the other woman to say, "He saved me."

Cosette just stares at Éponine.

"At the barricade." Éponine's teeth toy with her lips. "He was there. He carried Marius out. He saved me, as well."

"But... he..." Cosette can't seem to find the words to explain her confusion. "He said he had no knowledge of how Marius came to be saved. That we must be quiet about where Marius was, given that the revolution failed. He... he was _there_?"

Éponine nods, a small, soft motion. "He didn't have to save me. He could have left me there."

"No! No, of course he couldn't. You needed _help_ , not judgment. I am glad he saved you. I am glad you are here, and that you're recovering, just as Marius will recover." The words are true, burning certainties that Cosette wants to press into Éponine's heart to heal some of the pain so evident in Éponine's eyes.

"I have needed help for a long, long time, and there are very few who would hold out a hand." There's somehow both fury and grim acceptance in Éponine's words, in her face. "It would have been easier for you if I had died, and easier for me. He might not even have mourned me, and I would have died with a purpose. I would have died for _him_."

"For Marius." Cosette begins to put some of the pieces together, and her heart gives a little flip in her chest, like a caged bird. "You love Marius, don't you?"

"Yes." The word is a quiet whisper, though Éponine doesn't look away from Cosette's eyes. "I love him. Him, and his world, and... and he will never see me as more than the poor girl with the misfortune of living next to him in a bad part of town, if he even sees me as that."

"If that is true, which I don't think it is, then Marius is not the man I think him to be. Not the man I know he _can_ be." Cosette knows what she should do in this situation. She has heard other girls talk about it, has read about it in her novels. She is supposed to rail at Éponine. She is supposed to demand that Marius is _hers_ , only hers, and that Éponine be grateful she is alive and find somewhere far away from Marius as soon as she is able.

None of those words are the words that she finds herself wanting to say. None of them are _kind_ , and she has had more than her fill of cruelty due to _expectations_ over the years. Leaning forward, she fixes Éponine with a fierce glare. "You will live, and Marius will live, and together we will go to him. We will tell him what you did, and what I have done, and we will find a way forward for us all."

Éponine stares at her, lips parting slightly but no words emerging.

" _That_ is what I wish to do." Cosette opens the book in her lap, looking down at it. "Nothing more, and nothing less. Now, shall we see what ridiculous contrivances appear in this novel?"

Without further preamble Cosette begins reading, giving Éponine a chance to gather herself and her thoughts.

XXX

Marius wakes.

It takes him more time than he expects it to. First he becomes aware of sounds—of someone laughing, he thinks, though not in the same room as him.

Then he becomes aware of scents—of the scent of soap and linen, and a familiar aroma that he associates with his grandfather's house.

Then he remembers that he has eyes, and that he should probably open them at some point. It proves to be quite the struggle at first, but since lifting a hand to help him with his eyelids is far more than he can manage right now he just keeps struggling until too-bright sunlight lances right through his skull.

"Oh, just listen to these natterers. I understand, I truly do, I know where they're coming from, but the _ridiculousness_ of saying that everything was the fault of those at the barricades, that those who took to the barricades should be made examples of now! No, no, it will not happen. Mark my words, Marius, my boy, you will be _safe_ here. I still have connections. No one will know. We'll get you through this, and then whatever you wish—your pretty little thing really is quite devoted, even if I wish she would stop yammering away with your guardian angel, it's really quite—"

"Grandfather?" Marius squints, trying to bring the man into focus and not quite managing it. His voice is almost unrecognizable to his own ears, as though it were cracked and charred in the events of the barricade.

"Marius?" His grandfather drops the newspaper he had been perusing, rushing to Marius' side and lifting one of Marius' stone-heavy hands. "Are you really here with me, boy? Oh, please say that you are!"

"I am here, grandfather." Marius blinks, trying to figure out where else he would be.

"Oh, Marius! Marius!" His grandfather presses the back of Marius' hand to his face. "It's so good to hear you speak. So good to have you awake!"

There's another peal of laughter from nearby—not just one person, he realizes. Two people—two women?

"Who..." Marius swallows against a dry throat, and is relieved when his grandfather presents him with water. "Who's laughing?"

His grandfather glares at the wall. "Have no worries, boy. I'll get the ninnies to stop. It's that girl you wish to marry, and the one who took a bullet for you at the barricade."

Memories twist and turn in Marius' head, difficult to hold onto. He remembers going to the barricade, yes. Because... because he couldn't be with Cosette, so he might as well go where he was needed. And at the barricades...

His friends.

Courfeyrac.

Enjolras.

_All_ of them, all his friends—

Except—what had his grandfather said? "The girl who took a bullet for me?"

"Yes, yes." His grandfather waves his free hand. "I had her wounds tended to, as well. Obviously a low-born girl, but anyone who risks their life for you deserves at least that much. If they're bothering you, though, I'll have both the women turned out. Why, I shall go do that right—"

Marius manages to grip his grandfather's hand, stopping the old man from moving. "I want to see them. Please."

For a moment his grandfather looks torn, but then he is smiling, bending down to pat Marius' hand. "Of course, of course. Just give me a moment to fetch them."

When his grandfather leaves, Marius finds himself staring helplessly towards the door, hoping that he hadn't hallucinated the whole conversation. Could Éponine really have survived? Could—

Then there is a soft rustle of fabric, the quick tap of shoes against the wood of the hall, and a glorious apparition bursts into the room.

"Marius!" Cosette's voice on his name is the sweetest thing he has ever heard, just as her touch on his brow is the greatest blessing a man could ever ask for. "Oh, Marius, it's so good to see you awake."

"It's good to be awake." Marius tries and fails to sit up, his whole body feeling abominably weak, the world tilting before his eyes as he struggles to push himself upright.

Cosette's hands are gentle as she pushes him back into the mattress. "No, my love. Not yet. Please not yet."

Marius knows he could never deny Cosette anything, so he settles, smiling up at her as though she were the sun.

"It's good to see you alive, Monsieur Marius."

The other woman's voice is so unexpected it takes Marius a moment to realize that it's real. He blinks, turning his head to look around Cosette. "Éponine?"

She isn't properly dressed, a robe over a dressing gown. She holds herself carefully, as though a strong gust of wind could knock her over. The smile that she offers him is tentative and sad. "Yes."

"Éponine, you survived!" Marius finds his hands clenching into fists on his sheet, the desire to try standing again nearly overwhelming. "You're... how are you here?"

"I told you, boy." His grandfather's chuckle comes from the doorway. "Consider her life a gift, a little welcome home present for my prodigal grandchild."

Marius feels his blood seem to cool in his veins. There are so very many things wrong with that statement, and he can see the way the barbs strike Éponine, digging deep into her flesh.

"Grandfather." Cosette moves away from Marius' side, approaching his grandfather. "Don't you think it wiser to take responsibility for your own acts of charity? Your kindness shall be remembered far longer than Marius' rambles about the city, yes?"

His grandfather chuckles, clearly charmed by Cosette. "I suppose."

"Grandfather." Marius draws his grandfather's attention. "Could you... get some soup for me? I am both terribly thirsty and terribly hungry..."

"Of course, of course!" His grandfather hesitates in the doorway, then nods as he looks between Cosette and Éponine. "You ladies be proper chaperones for each other, here? I shall fetch your aunt, Marius, and send her along shortly."

Marius nods, though he can think of many more people he would prefer seeing right now.

Though... perhaps not many more people who are alive. Though if Éponine survived, surely some others did, too? He looks to his, trying to keep the wild hope and horror warring within him from showing on his face. "Éponine, the barricade—who—did we—"

"Your friends lost, and from what Cosette has been able to find out most if not all of them perished. I am sorry." Éponine holds herself stiffly.

"Oh." Marius allows his body to sink down into the mattress, trying to process what this will mean. Could Courfeyrac—smiling, cheerful Courfeyrac—really be gone? Jehan, their poet friend; Bahorel, who lived for fighting; Enjolras, so serene and certain in their cause... so many just _gone_?

"My father saved you." Cosette takes Marius' hand in hers again, pressing her lips to the back of it. "You and Éponine. He carried you away from the barricades."

"Your father?" Marius turns to the woman he loves. "He... but... was your father always a revolutionary?"

"No. He is as apolitical as it's possible for someone to be." Cosette smiles, though there are tears in her eyes. "He went to fetch you for me. He brought you home, and he brought me a friend in Éponine."

"She is a good friend." Marius shifts his head so that he can see past Cosette to where Éponine stands in the center of the room still, hugging herself protectively. "Forgive my grandfather. He is not... there is a reason I did not live at home. I think he _mostly_ means well, but he says some downright ghastly things, sometimes."

"It's all right, Monsieur Marius." Éponine smiles, and still it's the saddest expression Marius has ever seen.

"No, it's not." Cosette abandons Marius' side again to move to Éponine, taking Éponine's hands in hers and tugging Éponine towards Marius' sickbed. "Your life is your own. You are not a pet or a toy. I am glad you saved Marius, and I am beyond ecstatic that you both live."

"You..." Marius looks between the two women. "It was the two of you laughing, wasn't it?"

The faintest blush rises up Cosette's cheeks. "It was. You see, the novel that I brought, it's..."

"There's a goat." Éponine gives Cosette's hand a squeeze, and she smiles at Cosette, a warm, affectionate smile. "I'm not sure which is funnier, the goat or the goat's owner and his poor attempts at poetry."

Cosette smiles, still holding Éponine's hand. "I could bring the book here, if you want. We could all read it together."

"Certainly." Marius finds his eyes growing heavy, the world beginning to spin around him once more. "Anything that will make you happy, my love. Anything at all."

When Marius' aunt comes in, Marius forces himself to rouse enough to greet her and her tears. Then he allows himself to drift again, only half taking in Cosette and Éponine's descriptions of the book they are reading about Notre Dame cathedral.

He is alive.

Cosette is here.

By some miracle Éponine is alive, too—didn't sacrifice herself for Marius or his happiness.

For now Marius will cling to that and hope it drives away the memories he has of the barricade falling.

XXX

Cosette and Marius are sweet and absolutely, ridiculously in love.

Éponine understands. She really does. If she were in Cosette's place, if she had the opportunity to have Marius, well...

And if there _weren't_ Marius in the picture, if the days that she has spent talking and laughing with Cosette were allowed to simply be...

Éponine shakes her head. Pining after Cosette is even more ridiculous than pining after Marius. At least she could imagine she had a _chance_ with Marius—could picture him taking her on a mistress, if nothing else, though she had always wanted _more_. She wants him to respect her, as he clearly respects Cosette. She wants him to _notice_ her, as so few people do.

Cosette notices her.

Cosette thinks that Éponine is smart and clever, is respectful of the knowledge that Éponine has picked up on the street. The time they've spent reading together, sharing books... Éponine doesn't think she's been that happy in years.

And it doesn't end as abruptly as she had imagined it would. Though he is awake, Marius suffers terribly from the blow he took to his head. He has spells of dizziness that limit his movement even as his strength slowly comes back. He walks with a cane when he walks at all, his vision problems combining with a leg wound to make it necessary.

He needs them, and Cosette and Éponine are both eager to assist him in any way they can.

Éponine finds herself being cast as a servant by Marius' grandfather, and she doesn't know how much she dares to protest it. He has given her more than many people would, after all.

And yet...

Éponine doesn't _want_ to be a servant. It's a step up from street urchin, she supposes, and definitely better than the whore that she likely would have ended up being, but she always hoped... dreamed...

"Éponine?" Cosette's voice calls Éponine out of her revery, and she turns to face the other woman.

Éponine smiles at the other woman. Cosette is... well. She's only known adult Cosette for three weeks now, and Éponine was unconscious for the first three of those days, but Cosette is beautiful. She is fire and love and grace somehow wrapped into a mortal form, and Éponine wonders how the skittish little girl she knew grew into this woman.

Except sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes she sees Cosette freeze, listening too intently, watching too closely, and she knows they share some of the same scars.

Cosette's fingers close around Éponine's wrist, though she doesn't say Éponine's name again.

"I'm sorry. I'm just... trying to figure out where I want to go. What I want to do from here." Éponine's free hand toys with the dress that had been given to her by Marius' aunt—a plain but functional garment, appropriate to a servant.

"You aren't happy here?" Cosette steps closer, the subtle scent of her perfume enveloping Éponine.

"I've been happy here, but now that I'm getting better, I have to _do_ something. I have to..." Éponine swallows, touching the spot on her chest where the bullet had apparently bounced off a rib. Rib and wound are both healing quite well. "Marius' grandfather is willing to keep me on as a servant. It's a better job than what I was able to find on my own."

"But not a job that you want." Cosette speaks quietly, gently.

"It's definitely not what I want from _Marius_ or his family." Éponine shivers, though what she feels burning in her gut is more shame or anger.

"I can understand that." Cosette doesn't release her hold on Éponine, though her fingers slide down, tangle with Éponine's. "You didn't save him looking for a job. You helped him because you care about him, and you want him to care about you, too. Not to try to repay you by allowing you to do menial labor for them."

Éponine says nothing. There's too many complicated emotions caught up in the conversation. She does not want to go back to her family—to the tattered remnants of what she had once thought was a happy life but has long since begun to doubt. Staying on with the Gillenormand's wouldn't be _so_ bad, would it? Sure, the old man can be crude and has a tendency to leer at anything he thinks is pretty, but he's rich and his paycheck will keep her fed and housed.

What does she intend to do if she walks away? With a damaged chest and nothing to her name, where would she go?

"Would you consider coming with me?"

Éponine blinks, not quite understanding the words.

"Being a part of my household." Cosette cheeks burn, her eyes fixed determinedly on Éponine's face. "If I marry Marius—which seems likely—we'll need to establish a household. You know the city. You know both of us. I wouldn't consider you my servant, though I suppose it could be seen as that. More my... I don't know. My friend, who helps me arrange matters."

"Your friend who helps you..." The words _and desires your husband_ stick in Éponine's throat.

Apparently satisfied that Éponine isn't going to immediately reject the idea, Cosette surges forward, her fingers grabbing Éponine's. "My friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Until we decide to make it more or less."

And then Cosette does the strangest, most reckless thing. She lifts Éponine's scarred, rough fingers to her lips, and she kisses them as though they were something _deserving_. As though Éponine were something _precious_ , something she was honored to touch.

"Please." Cosette releases Éponine's hands. "Consider it?"

Éponine swallows, trying to find her words. Why does Cosette seem so able to strike her dumb, when even her father and his gang couldn't intimidate her out of having a mind of her own? "I will consider your proposal. Very strongly."

Cosette smiles, and then goes to find where she set the book that they're currently reading down, giving Éponine a few moments to get her thoughts together and try to sort out what it is that the pounding of her heart in her chest might mean.

XXX

"Thank you." Marius whispers the words to the woman who walks at his side, providing a crutch for him. "To you and to Cosette. I need... I _have_ to do this, whether my family understands or not."

"It's all right, Marius." Éponine continues to act as Marius' walking stick, not seeming to feel his weight at all. She looks healthier now than he thinks he's ever seen her, a bit of color and substance to her cheeks rather than the hollowed-out visage of starvation that she had always been. "I... I would like to see it again, as well."

"They've removed most of the evidence, my grandfather says." Marius keeps his eyes forward, his gait as steady as he can manage it. "There won't be much to tell of what happened. But still... it's where my friends died. It's where..." A shudder runs the length of Marius' body.

"You don't have to justify yourself to me."

"Perhaps not. But I want to." Marius manages to turn his head and get another look at Éponine without slowing their pace. His head seems to be healing along with the rest of him, even if it's not as swiftly as he would like. "I don't want you to feel that I'm being a fool."

"Even if it were foolish—not that I'm saying it is..." Éponine pauses, clearly considering her words. "Perhaps it should be allowed for people to be foolish. For people to care. To mourn."

"Caring is never foolish." It's something Marius has come to believe over the years, and something Cosette has only reinforced in his mind. "Caring leads to greatness, and to charity, and—"

"And to sorrow and to loss." Éponine cuts him off, then seems to think better of it, her lips turning up in a sad smile. "But I think you're right. That your lady is right. Caring is better than the alternative. Better than being a rabid dog savaging bones that could have been used to build a better future."

Marius feels his eyebrows both arch up. "Cosette said that?"

"Eventually. She's been..." Éponine hesitates. "She wants to understand where you were. What you and your friends fought for. She's having me fetch her newspapers and pamphlets when her father and your family refuse to help her truly understand."

Marius tries to imagine his Cosette deep in the political debates that had so engrossed his friends... and finds it far easier than he would have dreamed. His Cosette is beautiful, but she is also clever and as determined as any fox, especially when told that she's not supposed to care about something. "Well, that's not something I expected."

"Does it make you think less of her?" Éponine watches him closely, her eyes unreadable.

Marius mulls the question around in his mind. He knows many who _would_ think worse of Cosette for involving herself in realms that shouldn't matter to her, but he also remembers Combeferre's long diatribes about how everything touches everything else, about how mothers and sisters and lovers are as much a part of the world as the men they are related to, and he thinks... no, he _knows_ that he could never love Cosette less for caring, or for where that caring takes her. "No. I'll be glad to talk with her about what she's learned, and help to fill in information for her."

"And to be challenged by her?" Éponine's chin rises just a bit.

"And to be challenged by her." Marius smiles, giving his fingers a squeeze where they touch Éponine. "I've never minded being challenged by _you_ , after all."

"But you haven't loved me, either." The words are a quiet whisper as Éponine looks away.

"I..." Marius pauses, searching for the words that will help mend this bridge he hadn't even noticed cracking. "Éponine, have I been a poor friend to you?"

Éponine doesn't look at him when she answers. "There are times I am not sure you see me as a friend, even. You try to pay me for little acts of kindness, Marius. That is something you do for a servant or—or someone you see as a _tool_ , not someone you see as a person and certainly not someone you see as a friend."

"I was a fool to do that, and I apologize for it. I just... I don't know how to help, and I certainly didn't know how to help without giving offense, and..." Marius tightens his fingers on Éponine again, feeling the world spin around him, unsure if it's his wounds or this rearranging of how he sees the world. "I'm sorry, Éponine."

Éponine's hands are both on him now, holding him steady, keeping them grounded in the flood of people that is the city of Paris. "I am sorry, too. I shouldn't have said what I did, not like I did. Not here. Not with what we've come to do."

"We are both changed by the barricades." Marius fixes his gaze on a doorway, using the solid lines to get his equilibrium back. "Hopefully all things will be."

Éponine doesn't say anything, but she does help him continue on his way, bringing them to stand outside the cafe where the Amis met.

It seems so different without them. So devoid of life. Marius limps through the empty tables, pressing his palm flat to each, remembering bits and pieces of what happened between these walls. There was the chair, now empty, where Jehan stood to read one of his poems. There was the table where Bahorel punched another patron in the nose for some slight to a writer Marius wasn't even aware of. There was the table tucked in back where Grantaire would sit and drink and stare at Enjolras as though Enjolras were the sun. Here was where Bossuet and Joly liked to sit, the two always cheerful—there a scuff on the ground from Joly's cane. That table is where the others hoisted Feuilly up onto their shoulders until the fan-maker smacked Courfeyrac on top of the head and said he was being ridiculous.

There was the table where Enjolras and Combeferre and Courfeyrac sat, the map on the wall that they poured over. There was the place where Marius was made welcome again and again, though politics were never a mainstay of his life.

There are so many ghosts here. The blood may have been washed off the buildings and streets, but there is a haunting in Paris—a haunting in Marius' own mind—that he doesn't think will ever be banished.

When he finally turns to the doorway again—to Éponine—he finds that the tears on his face are mirrored by tears on hers.

He goes to her, takes her hand tightly.

"He..." Éponine draws a shaking breath. "The boy that liked your friends. He was my brother. My parents kicked him out a long time ago, and I was never much of a sister to him, but... he was my brother. And your friends were kind to him."

"Gavroche." Marius hadn't thought his heart could hurt more. He had been wrong.

"Gavroche." Éponine's voice fractures the name into many pieces, each of them landing like a barb in their battered flesh.

Marius doesn't know how long they stand there. A minute. Ten minutes.

He just knows that Cosette's voice breaks the stillness, gently calling both his and Éponine's names.

They emerge back out into daylight, and Cosette catches each of them by the hand. "Oh, I _knew_ you would be here, the both of you. Come, let's go back before we're missed. I am so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Éponine's words are harsh, her eyes hard as she studies Cosette.

Cosette steps towards her, reaches out to wipe some of the lines of tears from Éponine's cheek. "I am sorry for this. That you each mourn. That you are drawn to the pain, and that the others don't want to let you have it. I am sorry—" Cosette looks around, voice dropping to a whisper meant for only their ears. "I am sorry the barricades failed, and sorry they were needed, and certain they will one day rise again."

Marius swallows convulsively, his ears suddenly ringing with the screams of the dying, the sharp report of the guns again.

"But not right now." Cosette takes Marius' hand in a firm grip, not removing her fingers from Éponine's face as she does. "Right now, the three of us have a life to plan together, and I don't want any parents deciding we're not prepared to do that. So come, both of you. Come with me, and let's build a better dawn with the power that we have right now."

Cosette links an arm through both of theirs, and together the three of them make their slow way back to the Gillenormand estate, where Marius' aunt and Cosette's father berate them for foolishness while Marius' grandfather laughs at the antics of young men and winks suggestively at Marius in a way that Marius hates.

XXX

"I never told Cosette. She had enough of tears. She's never known the truth—"

Éponine steps out of the doorway and into the room, cutting the old man's words off with the power of her simple presence. It's a type of power she's not used to, and she doesn't give either man time to recover and shoo her out of the room. "Tell Marius who rescued him from the barricades. Who rescued _me_ , as well."

The old man's face takes on the cast of a hunted fox, desperately looking for a hole. It was not what Éponine had expected, not from the man who took pity on a dying poor brat. "I don't know what you could possibly—"

" _You_ saved us." Éponine steps forward, stabbing a finger towards Cosette's father. "Neither of us would be here if not for you."

"You saved us?" Marius blinks, his expression slowly filling with pure joy. Had he forgotten that they told him before? Lost the memory in the dreams that haunted him while he healed? "Good sir, that's—I cannot thank you enough. I cannot _owe_ you enough. Oh, to ask for Cosette's hand in marriage when I already owe you so much—"

"You owe me nothing. Lives are not to be bought and bartered and traded, and children should not be dying for the sins of their elders." The old man's words are harsh, and some of the panic fades from his eyes. "It doesn't matter, Marius. It _can't_ matter. No matter what I do, I can never atone. I broke my parole. I stole a loaf of bread and toiled for nineteen years, but then I broke my parole. My true name is Jean Valjean, and in the eyes of this society I will always be a monster. I—"

"Why did you steal the bread?" Éponine interjects into the story, seeing from Marius' dazed expression that he isn't processing quickly enough to counter Valjean's self-flagellation.

"To try to save my nieces and nephews. They were starving, and I thought... I saw it, I _didn't_ think, I just wanted them to _eat_..." Valjean's words trail off into a jagged indrawn breath. "I lost track of them. I have reinvented myself so many times, but my past doesn't seem to want to leave me be, and I do not want to have its shadow falling over Cosette."

"I have stolen bread. I have done so very many things to survive." Éponine steps forward, knowing that she may be destroying the chance of happiness with Cosette and Marius that Cosette has been dangling in front of her since Marius first seemed to be well on the way to recovery. "My father was a real monster in human skin, and I have walked and fought and lived beside others. You saved us when you didn't have to, Jean Valjean. Whatever else you have done, you saved _Cosette_ from my parents and the hell they had trapped her in. Do not allow fear to sever what love has bound together."

The last words are not hers. They are Cosette's, one of the things Cosette has murmured after they close their novel for the day.

Cosette should be here. This is Cosette's father, the man that Cosette loves dearly. She should _be_ here for this, but since Cosette is not the kind to skulk in shadows and suspect betrayal, it was Éponine who eavesdropped, and it is up to Éponine to try to stop this silliness before it begins.

"You can't—" _There_ is the shock and blustering dismissal Éponine has been expecting, the rich man telling the poor young woman that she is foolish to even attempt to join this discussion.

"She can, and I concur." Marius has gathered himself, stepping so he can take Valjean by the wrist before bowing low. "You are very precious to Cosette, and though I don't know the whole story, I imagine when we have heard it that I will understand. You saved me. You saved Éponine. You saved Cosette from a world that is full of cruelty. Give us the opportunity to save you, as well. Tell us what it is that has happened and what it is that you fear."

Valjean hesitates, looking deep into Marius' eyes. Then the fight seems to leave his shoulders, and he sighs deeply. "All right, boy. If you want the full story, find us somewhere secluded and I will give it to you."

"Not just to him." Éponine places a hand on Marius' shoulder. "To him and to Cosette."

"And to you." Marius smiles as he includes Éponine in the group. "As Cosette's... what did she say she wishes you to be? Lady in waiting? You have a right to the story, too."

"And to me, as well." Éponine bows her head, feeling her ears burn with too much emotion at the simple act of Marius including her in their soon-to-be family unit.

They will hear what Valjean has to say, and they will make their plans for the future accordingly.

XXX

"Thank you. Both of you." Cosette's hands are shaking as she settles back into a chair. Her father has left to collect himself, his usually calm demeanor cracked to pieces by their trios staunch refusal to deny him absolution.

What would she have done if Marius had not taken her side? If Éponine hadn't been there, solid and sure, ready with a sharp comeback whenever Cosette's dear father elected to take more blame upon his back than one human man could possibly carry?

What would she have done if Marius had walked out when he heard the truth of her father's life—the truth of her _mother's_ life? If he had declared her a bastard—

He didn't, though. He has been solid and calm throughout the entire affair, returning again and again to _you saved my life_.

Her father saved her fiance's life. For Cosette, because Cosette needed Marius alive.

Her father had intended to leave her without ever telling her the reason why.

Anger burns hot in Cosette's chest, and she squeezes her fingers together, not ready to give it voice. Everything still feels so fragile, so easily shattered into a thousand pieces, and if she doesn't have to witness that happening—

Slim, calloused fingers cover hers, and Cosette looks up to see Éponine standing before her, looking down with sympathy.

Drawing a slow breath, Cosette tries to breathe out some of the anger. "I am sorry to be so shaken by this. I suspected... something, but not anything of this extent. Not..."

"It was your life. You deserved to know everything." Éponine shoots Marius a determined look.

If the barb strikes home, Marius doesn't show it. Instead he rises to his feet, coming to put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad he finally gave up his mad plan of leaving you. Leaving _us_. To think that such a turn of events could scar a man so much..."

"It was nineteen years of his life. His family. His place in society." Cosette feels tears gathering in her eyes as she imagines a younger man with her father's face. "I do not blame him for what he did, or for the fears he has now, but I will never abandon him."

"And we will never abandon you." Marius leans down, pressing a kiss to Cosette's head. "You are family, the both of you. Soon to be family by law as well as by heart, even, and I cannot wait for the day."

Cosette can't, either. Or, rather, she longs for the day when Marius will be undeniably _hers_ , when she can say to anyone that he is her _husband—_ when no one will be able to take him away. And yet...

She glances at Éponine only to find the other woman looking away, expression carefully blank. Éponine has been a part of Cosette's household now for a little over a week, and it has been wondrous, having someone her own age to talk to and plan bits of the wedding and their life after with. Will it be as wondrous when Marius is there, too?

Does she dare to hope it could be _more_?

She knows that sometimes there is... she hesitates to say _more_ , not when friendship itself still feels so new and vital and wondrous, but something _different_ than friendship between women. Though it was kept as quiet as possible, she could not live in the convent or the girl's school without learning that sometimes women lived with other women as though they were married.

She wants to kiss Éponine just as badly as she wants to kiss Marius. She knows that Marius loves her dearly, and that he and Éponine have found a new rapport after the horrors of the barricades. Perhaps...

Or perhaps it would all come shattering down around them.

"Do you think my father's fear was justified?" Cosette looks from Éponine to Marius. "Do you think it better to hide than to face what may come?"

"No." Marius is slow and careful in his answer, as he has been with all the questions that matter to him since he awoke from the wreckage of the failed revolution. "I think truth is important, especially with those one loves. But also... timing. Timing, and knowing one's audience, _those_ are also important."

"It depends what you're looking for." Éponine's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug that can't quite suppress how much the question matters to her. "If you want absolution and respect from people that you _know_ won't give it if they know the truth... then you protect yourself. You don't offer your arm to someone's blade if you think they'll cut you without a second thought. But if you know the people, you _trust_ the people, and it's fear keeping your tongue still... your father could have come to you at any point. I understand why he didn't, but I think he made a mistake. I think he let fear stand between you and the truth of himself and your mother, and I am glad to see the wrong made right."

Cosette takes Éponine's hand from where it lies atop hers and lifts it to her mouth, kissing the bare, scarred knuckles. She watches Marius' face as she does, looking for signs of jealousy, of confusion, of bewilderment. All she sees is contentment, and she switches her gaze back to Éponine. "Thank you. Again."

Éponine shrugs, moving back. Giving Cosette room, and Cosette uses it, rising to her feet and pivoting so that she can grab Marius by both arms.

Marius' eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, clearly confused. Cosette uses the opportunity to kiss him, as fully as she has wanted for weeks—a kiss that is not chaste, that would cause any of their supposed chaperones to quite possibly faint dead away.

When the kiss is done, she looks up into his eyes, and speaks the simplest, purest truth she knows. "I love you."

Marius' hand reaches up, caressing her right ear, dipping down to cup the back of her neck. "I love you, too. More than life itself."

"I know." Cosette draws a breath, steeling herself as she pulls away from Marius and heads to Éponine.

Éponine is just as confused as Marius was, which makes it easier, at least. Cosette had been half afraid she'd have to fight the woman. Instead all she has to do is walk up to her, grab her by the shoulders, and pull her into a kiss that is no less fierce than the one she gave Marius.

It takes Éponine longer to respond than it did Marius, and when she does there is a difference in the way they kiss—a fierceness to Éponine's lips that wasn't there with Marius.

When she and Éponine break apart, Cosette makes sure to keep her eyes on Éponine, to keep from looking to see how Marius is responding. If this is going to work—if this is going to be as she has imagined, in her wildest, most beautiful daydreams—then she needs to make sure Éponine knows she is just as important as Marius is. "I love you."

Éponine opens her mouth, but no sound emerges.

Cosette reaches up, strokes Éponine's throat and then kisses the corner of her open mouth. "I love you, and I want you to be a part of my marriage as well as my house."

Éponine's eyes have fixed on Marius, so Cosette turns to her fiance, as well.

Marius is watching them, one hand on the back of the chair Cosette had occupied, the other on his hip. His expression is hard to read, but Cosette doesn't think he looks angry. More bemused than anything, really.

"Marius?" Cosette swallows, hoping she hasn't ruined everything.

"Some of my friends at the barricade..." Marius' words are slow and thoughtful. "Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta. They were good people. Good friends. Lovers, all of them. If they had lived..."

Marius' voice trails off, and it is Éponine who steps forward, Éponine who has seen the spectre of death as clearly as Marius has.

Éponine hesitates, looking back at Cosette, clearly uncertain if she is allowed to do this.

Cosette gestures towards her fiance—towards the man her father saved, the man she has loved since she first lay eyes on him. She searches her heart for any hesitation, any jealousy, as Éponine closes the distance and takes Marius' hands in hers.

She finds none. _This_ is what she wants. _This_ is how they will work best, she thinks, the three of them together, and she does not want to sacrifice that just because some damnable propriety—the same propriety that killed her mother, that has terrorized her father all his life—says it isn't proper.

Éponine leans in slowly, her lips touching Marius' with the gentleness of a featherfall.

Marius pulls her in closer, closing his eyes as their lips press together with more certainty—with more need and desire.

Cosette waits for them to separate before moving to their sides, taking their hands and holding them tight. "Is that what the two of you would want?"

"It would be difficult, in some respects." Marius' tone is considering, not condemning. "But I do love you both, I think, and if that is what the two of you want..."

"Cosette, you are an angel in human form. Marius was right when he said that." Éponine gives Cosette's hand a gentle squeeze before her gaze swings to Marius. "And you, Monsieur Marius... you are not what I daydreamed you were. And I would much rather have the true man before me than the prince of my dreams."

"We will find a way to make it work, then." Marius' words are firm and final, a spark of fire catching in his eyes as he studies them both. "Damn anyone who calls us fools or tries to interfere. I have seen it done, and we want it, and we shall have it. You will have a household with two loves, Cosette, and your father will always, always be welcome there, no matter what name he uses."

Cosette could ask for nothing more than that, and so she pulls these two people close to her—these people that she almost lost even before she truly knew what it was to have them—and holds them tight.

That is how her father finds them a minute or two later. He clears his throat, waiting for them to break apart, the soft smile on his face saying that he doesn't suspect anything untoward. Why would he? Cosette has never seen him look at another person with the kind of longing she feels for Éponine and Marius. He craves a different type of connection to the world, and she will ensure he has it.

Stepping to her father's side, Cosette takes his hand in a firm hold. "You will live with us, Father. And together we will make a happy home."

"If it were anyone else, Cosette..." Her father pats her hand in a familiar gesture. "But for you, dear child... for you I will try."

A chance is all she asks for.

A chance is all she _needs_ , because for the child who has loved and lost and found love again, clinging tight to these precious people she has found is all the happily ever after she could ever need.


End file.
